


The Mermaids Were Singing Our Requiem

by for_autumn_i_am



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'll go down with this ship to the rock bottom, M/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, love undying & unyielding, no graphic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_autumn_i_am/pseuds/for_autumn_i_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reek escapes from Ramsay, heading towards South. In the House of the Undying, he meets Robb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mermaids Were Singing Our Requiem

He might be able to hear his breathing, if it weren’t for the waves, the moaning of the sea suffocating Reek’s gasping as he swallows down the dry wind, sand scrunching under his teeth - its colour is like of gold, yet it tastes like dirt. 

He went to South; he fled; and he’ll go on and on until he reaches the Sun, until its beams burn him. He must be close. The desert burns his bare feet. Half-blinded, he squints. Reek tumbles forward with his cloak around his head, his breeches mere rugs now. He drags his limping leg, grasping the cloth covering his mouth with his flayed fingers. 

The bears the sea in his mind. He drags it along with him. He left it long before. His ship had sank, the waves had swallowed her up whole. He can hear them chewing and munching still, the waves. He can hear every little noise of the deep blue, the blubbing of fishes with secret names and the songs of the mermaids, the slow throbbing of the kraken’s heart. The kraken, he used to be his kin. It’s hilarious.

He keeps moving on.

No stars can guide his steps now. They’re foreign stars on a foreign sky, stretching into formations unknown to him. He follows one of them, nevertheless, the brightest, the coldest, which he'd named Wolf’s Eye. A solitary light far from the pack of a million star-brothers.

Wolf’s Eye leads him to a ruined city. 

The city had been run down by a horde. He follows their hoofprints in the sand. It wasn’t a big horde, but, of course, a handful of good men is more than enough to conquer a city. If only he had been a good man; since losing a city only takes one. One failed parody of a prince.

He decides to stay the night. He aims for the grand tower, which looks like a prison in the dark, terryfing and familiar. All his life, he’d been moving from cell to cell. He figures he couldn’t be anywhere else but between walls high and cold. 

He can’t find the door. He circles the tower trice until it shows up, and he cannot comprehend how he’d missed it before. It’s a huge and heavy gate. He opens it, and steps inside.

Water rushes to his feet. Saltwater licks his ankles, but it doesn’t bite his bruisies. Reek looks up. Torches light the night. He’s in a throne room.

The Iron Throne is just across the room. Above it, mosaic stained windows shine bright, their splintered colours falling into the water. Reek moves foward. The sea is at his knees.

Robb sits on the Iron Throne, motionless. He wears his cruel crown, and his face is covered with blood. Reek stops.

Reek holds his breath.

The sea is smooth now. 

If he holds his breath long enough, he’ll hear whether Robb is alive. The rich furs and the heavy armour won’t show the fall and rise of his chest, and his hand, holding a naked sword, doesn't flinch an inch. His eyes are closed, and no lash falters. Reek lets out a long, sobbing breath, and he wails, ragged and pathetic.

“Robb, please, please, Robb,” he whines, and steps forward, the water at his waist. A wave pushes him closer, then drags him back again.

Robb looks up. His eyes are clammy and cloudy, stormclouds trailing the deep azure of the sky. Reek falls to his knees, grateful. The smell of the sea fills his mind. The smell of Robb fills his mind. They colide, salt and skin and steel, and Reek breathes it in. The waves wuther and clash, but they don’t come closer. Robb stands up, slowly. 

“You’ve come for my forgiveness,” he says. His voice echoes through the hall, but it is still the voice of a mere boy, far too young to love, to wage wars, and to die.

“I don’t deserve that.” Reek’s cheeks are washed by the tears of the sea. They might baptise him again in the name of a new god, greater and victorious even in his defeat. Robb steps closer. His mantle sways. 

“You’ve come for my blessing.”

“I don’t deserve that.”

One step closer, down the stairs. Robb is standing in the water.

“You’ve come for my absolution.”

“I don’t deserve that.”

Reek bows his head, closing his eyes. He doesn’t deserve the sight of Robb, he doesn’t deserve to be near him. He’s unworthy, and Robb is imperial. Yet, when Reek dares to lay eyes on him again, he doesn’t see the King in the North, but the stolen smile of a boy, who mimics his crooked grin, all teeth and carefree bliss. Robb kneels down, arms open. The sword falls down. Robb reaches to Reek, laughing: 

“Well then, you shall have my mercy!”

Reek runs to his arms. He runs with all his might, no matter how hard the tide pulls him back and down, and when he can’t run anymore, he swims. Robb waits, smiling, his arms open to an embrace, and this is everything Reek yearns for, to hug him, just once again, pressing close finally and forever.

Reek heaves and wheezes. The waves rise. They break the windows. Rainbow-splinters spill, and all the lights are out. The sea moans and bellows, but Robb is so close now, so close. Foam fills Reek’s nose and mouth, and something pulls him down, seaweed or terryfying tentacles, they try to hold him back, but he keeps swimming. 

Robb is just out of reach.

Robb is alive. 

The waves carry Reek’s limp body to his arms. Robb smiles, and when Reek looks up to meet his eyes, he sees the guiding star in his gaze.

It’s all very quiet. 

It’s all very peaceful. 

It’s all over now. 

The sea is calm. 

Reek doesn’t breath anymore. 

Theon Greyjoy, in the city of Qarth, in the House of the Undying, lies on the floor, face buried in the dirt. He drowned while he was asleep, choked on dust and tears.

He’s smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is currently unbeta'd (sorry about that)  
> I'm not a native English speaker, so please, feel free to correct me  
> Find me on tumblr: http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/  
> 


End file.
